You Are Not Him
by Nefferduat
Summary: And you never will be. The story behind the woman who is sworn to carry you burden and will protect you with her life, with the slightest hint of resentment. The story of Lydia, housecarl to the Thane of Whiterun. Keep on you toes, Dovahkiin.
1. Prolouge

A/N: Right, so this is the first fanfiction I've written in three years. It's also a different style than what I've been doing recently- but I had inspiration and it can't hurt anything but my ego to get picked apart by others. I don't need an ego.

It had been two hours since her mother had blown out the candle beside her bed and told her to get some sleep. She couldn't though, not knowing that he'd be coming home tonight. She clutched the small, patchy stuffed wolf to her as she pressed her ear to the crack under the door. She had tried to keep awake, but still drifted off, curled up on the floor, till someone moved, causing a creek that caused her to wake up, excitedly straining to hear his voice. I was her mother, or Frigg looking for the mouse that had been eating their stores. She was starting to get disheartened that he wouldn't make it home that night- then she heard the door open and shut, the wind howling outside with the rain and sleet of the early winter season. She cracked open the door, only a few inches, waiting to hear the tell-tale laugh that would mean he was home.

Then, the great earth shatter sound resounded through the house. She pushed the door open and ran down the stairs; the toy left by the way side. Frigg barked at the sudden movement as she launched herself at her father, he bent down and pulled her into a huge. His dark braided beard ticked at her face as he held her too him like she was the stuffed wolf.

"Lydia," He mother scolded, a smile on her face, "I sent you to bed hours ago!" Her father turned to her mother, still holding Lydia in his arms,

"Kelda, come now! The child wanted to see me and Lilja home, no harm in that." Lydia peeked over her father's shoulder and waved to the tall woman leaning against the doorway, an amused smirk played across her face and she waved back,

"No harm you say- you've never had to deal with her when she hasn't had a proper sleep, Mattijs," Kelda placed her hands on her hips, "Now you've seen he's home, will you go to bed?" Lydia clung desperately to her father,

"No, I wanna hear his adventures!" She turned to look up at his scared face, "I can stay up, right da?" Mattijs pulled her off and gently put her down,

"In the morning, Lydia, I'll tell you everything. For now, you need to go to bed so the morning comes faster," He kissed the top of her head, "And thanks for seeing me home."

"Alright," She sighed- sometimes you had to humour adults, "Good night ma, good night da, good night Lilja, and good night Frigg." They chimed their good nights, sweet dreams as she pulled herself up the stairs, retrieved her toy and retired to her room. As soon as she crawled into bed, she dropped into a restful sleep.

Mattijs Sheild-Breaker was Jarl Magnar's Thane, and had earned his title in his youth when he drove bandits away from the city. The two had been friends since, and Mattijs often found himself consulted in important matters. Magnar was a good Jarl, loyal to the Empire and a strong protector to his people, and Mattijs was his staunch supporter in everything he did- which put the Jarl greatly in the peoples favour. However, he was the greatest hero to his daughter, who loved to hear of him fighting alongside his housecarl, Lilja. After dinner when he was home, they'd sit in the small kitchen of Breezehome as he told his stories, often corrected or scaled back by an amused Lilja, as Lydia sat on a mat, listening eagerly, her admiration for the large fighter clear in her eyes. When he was of protecting the people of Whiterun Hold, Lydia was playing with the other children, and pretending to fight off Frigg, the long suffering family dog. He took it well, and would grab her wooden sword and run off, meaning she'd have to chase him through the town yelling his name at least once a day to get it back. She was going to be a hero like him, serve her Jarl and keep people safe from giants and bandits. She would earn her own name, and people would drink to her health in The Banded Mare like they always did for her father.

Lydia thought her father invincible, and when Kalda worried if he would come home, she'd hug her mother and beem up at her,

"Don't worry ma- da always comes home. He's the Thane!" And for a long time, that was true. Ever few months he'd ride back on his large, dark brown horse with harrowing tales of adventure. Lydia would sit with Ysolda on the city walls and wait for the pair to come home. Often times, they wouldn't, and the two young girls would spend the day practicing their stitches or reading books. Lydia took to drawing. It started with her being bored with a bit of charcoal in her hand, trying to recrate the view of the stables, then Ysolda, then the city itself. She got quite good at it, and Ysolda would ask her to sketch random things and gave them all to the Jarls son, who was going off on his great quest. She wanted to make sure their next Jarl didn't forget about Whiterun. He asked who drew them, but no one spoke up, and Ysolda had been sworn to secrecy. Lydia was going to be a warrior, not an artist.

She might have never realised that goal if it wasn't for a surprisingly sneaky giant. Mattijs and Lilja had been riding home, exhausted from an early fight, when they passed by a large stone. As they rode by, he stepped out from behind it and took out Mattijs with a single swing, turning his intention to Lilja, believing him to be dealt with. Lilja had little luck in fighting the best off, and found herself supporting herself on a tree, trying to lift her mace. Mattijs managed to land the final blow, recovering if only enough to throw his shield. It was nothing but luck; the shield hit the back of the skull. It didn't kill the giant, but managed to stun it long enough for them to clambering on the last living horse and flee to Whiterun. He wouldn't live to see the city gates. Lilja wouldn't live long enough to see her Thanes passing. It was a blow to Lydia's reality, who up until then did not realize that you really did risk your life- that it was that risk that made you a hero.

Much to her mother's dismay, this did not detour her from her course. The Jarl promised that she could train with his guards, that she could be a warrior, trained and outfitted. She would find her place in this world- Magnar would do that for his fallen friend. She stayed with the nobility of Whiterun when Magnar passed on and Balgruuf took the holding. Lydia would serve him like her father had served his. She did not realize what that would mean till a sunny day when a stranger found themselves walking into the hold, blood of a dragon still fresh on her ax.


	2. Chapter 1: Awkward Start

A/N: I am aiming to update once a day- kinda like a post nanowrimo ass kicking. Feel free to send me angry faces if I don't. And concerning Lydia and my Dovahkiin being a couple- I don't know yet. I have a few plot lines to follow, but it's a decent likelihood that they will. Why? I like sexy war goddesses- especially when they are together.

I rested against the right pillar, watching quietly as she strode through the hall. She was a nord, tall and well built with dark red hair and blue eyes that burned with determination- and something else. I was unnoticed as she stood before the Jarl. They spoke, of what I didn't know, their voices were conversational- so it was clear I was not meant to. This gave me a moment to ponder her- the woman – who slew a dragon. This was no small task, considering that this dragon had destroyed Helgan early that week and took out a few dozen handfuls of imperial soldiers and stoarmcloak rebels. This woman, with nothing more than a few Whiterun guards and Irileth- a woman I admired but knew could not fell a Dragon with the small amount of men afforded to the Jarl's service. This woman in front of the Jarl did the impossible- and she walked like she knew that, stood like she knew that, and levelled her gaze to look the Jarl in the eye because she knew he knew. It upset me, I knew the Jarl as a good man, who cared like his father did and who's first care was for the people of Whiterun Hold. Who was this woman to look him in the eye? Dragonborn is what the Jarl called her, the word kept coming up.

"By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It is the greatest honour that's within my power to grant. I assign you Lydia," My heart stopped when he said my name. I was not expected to swear my life to a woman who only just walked into town, who had no idea who the people of Whiterun were, who her father was, but he continued, as I knew he would,

"As a personal housecarl and this weapon from my armoury to serve as your badge of office. I'll also notify," I stopped listening then. It didn't matter; my oaths once made to Jarl Balgruuf the Greater now were passed onto this woman, this nameless woman with the Axe of Whiterun strapped across her back. She bowed her head to the Jarl and walk towards me. I had a better view of her face, she was beautiful. A scar ran through her left eye and a red, leaf shaped war paint hid her right check. She crossed her arms and looked me up and down, I straightened up. I looked her in the eyes, and held my head high.

"The Jarl has appointed me to be your housecarl. It's an honour to serve you." The words felt like bile in my mouth. I should give this woman a chance, but the smug look on her face made it hard. It was clear she found having a housecarl amusing. She asked me what a Thane was, and I bitingly told her. To accept that honour, and to not understand what it meant- the responsibility it came with- it was insulting. Insulting to all the Thanes who came before her, to all the thanes that fought and died for this hold, to my father. I know I shouldn't still be soar about this; it had been 10 year since he passed, but this boiled my blood. I could not fathom why the Jarl would assign me housecarl to this woman- but it was now my duty to protect her and her ideas. This was going to be fun.

Andora Ortu was her name, a nord who had been born in the north of Cyrodiil. That's all I knew of her, all she would tell me without prompting. I had no right- and no interest, so I didn't dig beyond that. She wandered around Whiterun, buying and selling as she needed- food, weapon sharpening, the essentials and I followed her, acknowledging my neighbours with a nod, or a smile. As we walked out of the market Andora turned to me, "Can you carry something's for me?" She asked, pulling out pots, a wood chopping axe and the bedrolls, with more biting distaste than I meant, "I am sworn to carry you burdens." And I took her things putting them in my own pack. Now I clanked like a Khajiit caravan cart- so the great hero didn't have too. "What was that large mead hall? Up near Dragonsreach?" It took me a moment to realize she was speaking to me,

"The Companions are in Jorrvaskr, they are fighters who solve problems for money." Her eyes lit up,

"Mercenaries?" She asked,

"Barely." I knew little of them, but my father had held them in high regard, so I knew they were better than that. Andora turned, and looked thoughtfully at the building. "Wait in the market area; I want to go check that out." She thrust her bag and me, and walked away.

This was starting well, the first thing our Thane does with her time is go to visit the Companions. I always thought that name sounded like something you would call an order of upper-class whores, but I'd never been so foolish as to think that was the case. As she ran off, I made my way to the overhang and rested my burdens, her burdens, and rested against one of the beams holding them off. Now I played the waiting game, considering she had given me no idea how long she planned to be.

"She's very pretty, isn't she?" I turned around; there stood Ysolda, holding a basket of fabric, probably wrapped up food. I smiled; it was nice to see her again,

"I wouldn't know- I've been staring at the back of her head." I received an eye roll,

"You noticed- and you hated that you noticed."

"I was too busy noticing you." That was probably not my best moment. She looked away, did that painful, awkward laugh and smiled,

"I'm touched, but- you have a Thane to train. I'll see you Lydia." With a waved she walked away, I watched her go talk to Carlotta. I gave and exasperated sigh and hit the back of my head against the beam. We'd had someone, when we were young. We'd both lost everyone, I'd just sold Breezehome to the Jarl's estate to help pay for my training and living at the keep. She'd been my friend, my confidante- and my sweetheart. We never went beyond cuddling, and kissing, and sweet words; we were both too young and too vulnerable. It was years ago, but I still liked her. I wasn't in love with her, nothing so cliché. We'd both admitted there was something, but something she didn't want to explore then. It had eaten our friendship, and every time we tried to be what we once were, one of us said something- something like that.

It wasn't until the sun had started to drop from the sky till she came back, whistling a tune I didn't recognised. I stood up; standing there had gotten tiresome, and picked up our bags, handing hers to her. She seemed content with whatever she had found,

"I might go back there, good people." She told me, as though I'd asked, as she swung her bag over her shoulders.

"Ah." I responded eloquently. She didn't notice, setting off down the stairs. Apparently, she intended that we would travel despite it being late. I would have stayed at the inn till morning, but common sense was never prevalent in heroes of legend, why should it apply to Andora? With a heavy sigh I set off behind her, still clanking. The guards bid us farewell, thanking her for slaying the dragon and wishing us luck. Luck, I had a feeling I would need it. She started north; walking along like the sun was still high in the sky.

"Where are we going, my thane?"

"Windhelm. The Jarl has made a choice and there is someone I need to speak with." She didn't turn to look back at me, just kept driving forward. "Then, after whatever that means, we'll be going to High Hrothgar. When we get to Windhelm, search for warm clothing for under our armour." I rolled my eyes, so begins orders without reason, so begins the idea that I am a soulless beast. At least she specified I was to get warm clothing for both of us.

"Very well my Thane."


	3. Chapter 2: Windhelm

A/N: Sorry about this being late, I had a boyfriend to snuggle. I do have a Dovahkiin in mine I'm afraid, but I do like the idea. I may try a one shot later where the Dovahkiin in more ambiguous- maybe even male! I almost made Andora, Andor, but I liked the feeling I got off the female one, and I didn't want Lydia's view of the new Thane to ever mix with the view of her father- characters can be tricky like that. However, thank you for the reviews; they make me feel all warm and fuzzy! Just a warning, I might change this too M later, depends what happens.

We did not speak as we trudged along, so I was comforted by nothing but the sounds of dirt and stone beneath our feet and the occasional sounds of wolves in the distance or an owl over head. I assumed Andora's business in Windhelm must have been pressing, because I could see she was tiring. I wasn't sure if I admired her drive, but I knew it worried me. Wolves were not kind too those on the roads, and I was not interested in a pack of wolves killing me because she didn't understand the concept of camp. I felt uneasy, so I readied my sword and shield, feeling better for having them firmly in my grasp. At the very least nothing would catch me unprepared; I was not going to fail. Not on my first night.

Thankfully, she found it suitable for us to rest for a few hours at a small farm. The old man was kind enough to lend us a bed. A bed. Charming, I know. Luckily, I was carrying the bedrolls, so I had soft fur to rest on, despite it being on the floor. Andora was the Thane, and therefore comfort, food, healing- it went to her first. It was traditional- but that didn't mean I had to like it. I was in a bad mood, with Ysolda still on my mind I was exhausted and my feet hurt, so I was being whiney and self absorbed. It was unbecoming, and unprofessional. But I felt justified, and I didn't voice it. After resting I felt better, even if we only stopped for a few hours, the sun was a more welcome sight than if we'd walked all night. We left at first light, eating what was going to act as breakfast as we traveled. Still, she didn't speak to me any more than tell me what to do next. I found boredom consumed my resentment quickly, and I started hoping she would launch into her life story, or tell me why we were traveling to Windhelm. At that moment, I don't think I would have minded if she started to spout Daedric chants. The silence was nearly deafening.

"Lydia," She didn't turn to look at me, nor did she slow down. I turned my gaze to the back of her head,

"Yes, my Thane?" I can't say I was enthusiastic, but it was better than the endless nothingness that had hung in the air since we left Whiterun.

"Do you sing?" I almost stopped in my tracks. Did I look like a bard? Sure, I'd sung with the guards, but when your drunk and with friends it's not the same.

"No, my Thane." I answered dryly. Andora sighed, clearly disappointed.

"Shame. The silence is getting unbearable. Or am I the only one who noticed?"

"No, I noticed too." There was silence again, and then she started to sing. It wasn't loud, or particularly driven- by oblivion, it wasn't even that good. It was comforting though, and I found myself humming along to the familiar tune. We kept it up till a bear felt like we were a suitable lunch meat. After the fight, with the adrenalin still running through us, the need to sing was no longer prevalent, so we lapsed back into silence.

We said nothing more till we saw Windhelm on the horizon. We stopped for a moment, and looked at each other. I had never seen Windhelm before, I'd seen much of the holding- traveling with my father and the guards, but this was something different. Windhelm wasn't anything like Whiterun; it looked darker and cramped, with none of the charm that made my home what it was. Andora started back down the path,

"Do you remember what you need to do?"

"Warm clothing." She nodded; apparently pleased to see I remembered something she'd told me the day before. Did the great hero think I was an amusing animal sidekick added to a story to amuse the children? I was as much nord as she was, and I did not appreciate being treated like a common khajiit caravaner. She clapped me on my back after we entered the city,

"Meet me in Candlehearth Hall when your business is concluded." She wandered off to go see what some brutish nord men were up to. I mean, if she found bullies like that appealing then I felt worse about thinking she was attractive.

The only place I could find in the city who sold something warm to wear was a dark elf named Sadri. I wasn't exactly comfortable with him, he seemed shifty in where he got his things. But, I had to get them somewhere, and unless I wanted to try to make something myself I had no other option. I think he enjoyed charging me extra- but given how he and his people were treated, I wasn't sure I blamed him. I can't say I liked it though- he should have appreciated that I kept all the slurs I was thinking about him to myself. I didn't think much of those who complained of being hated for what they were who'd so readily return the favour, made me uneasy. There was already one war going on, did Skyrim need another one? Windhelm seemed like it was breeding rebellion in its cramped, labyrinth like streets.

I felt better in Candlehearth Hall. The food was good, and it lived up to its name. I felt good, sitting next to the large, warming fire as a dunmer woman sang of the stormcloaks. She had a pretty voice, and the woman- Susanna, who served the drink was a pleasure to look at. We spoke briefly, I asked about the city. But she was busy, and but a nature I saw as an act to get tips, she wasn't interested. I wasn't insulted, I wouldn't have had the time anyway, the waiting game was starting again, Andora was set to arrive any moment. I had a feeling this was going to happen a lot, I just hoped it was always going to happen when I had somewhere to warm my feet. I wasn't under the impression that this was going to be easy, but I could enjoy it when it was.

"We're heading out." I put down my tankard and turned to see Andora, standing over me and handing me my bag. I stood up and placed my money on the small table beside the partially drank half.

"Yes, my Thane." I took the bag and followed her. Why was she in such a rush? She walked with more purpose than I had seen since she came into Dragonsreach. As we left the city, I saw where we were going- the stormcloaks had carts. I looked at her, the colour starting to drain from my face, she pulled herself up onto a cart,

"Come one Lydia. We're invading Whiterun." She grabbed me, and pulled me onto the cart.


End file.
